


when The End comes for real

by phlintandsteel



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ficlet, Heaven, Hell, Humanity, M/M, Other, The End, cross posted from tumblr, this is pretty short but people seem to like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-21 04:29:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19995880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phlintandsteel/pseuds/phlintandsteel
Summary: When The End comes for real, it’s just as Crowley supposed, with Heaven and Hell united against humanity....They stare down the Morning Star across the open expanse of the soon to be battlefield, humanity behind them, as much of it sheltered beneath their wings as they can manage.And then the Heavenly forces begin to sing.





	when The End comes for real

**Author's Note:**

> I may make this into a ficlet collection... I have a couple other unrelated ficlets from tumblr that I haven't posted here yet...

When The End comes for real, it’s just as Crowley supposed, with Heaven and Hell united against humanity. There are a lot of people who don’t believe what’s happening, but about half earth’s inhabitants do. And they show up for the fight. 

The army humans have guns, there are doctors wielding baseball bats and taxi drivers with tire irons. Masses of youths are forming up with nothing but broken bottles and spite to defend themselves with. 

Lucifer scoffs at them, his beauty already luring some people from their posts. 

Not _too_ many of them, though. Aziraphale _has_ to believe that...

There may be millions of angels and demons among the ranks, united for a common goal, but there are _billions_ of humans.

Crowley and Aziraphale are in the thick of it, of course. _Of course._ Aziraphale has come into the possession of his flaming sword again, through a series of events that Crowley really doesn’t want to think too hard about. 

They stare down the Morning Star across the open expanse of the soon to be battlefield, humanity behind them, as much of it sheltered beneath their wings as they can manage. 

And then the Heavenly forces begin to sing. 

There may be no rousing war songs in Heaven, but there’s an otherworldly intimidation that can’t help but be felt by the humans when all those angelic voices resonate in harmony. It’s as beautiful as it is terrifying. _Singing_ was, after all, one of the angel’s first jobs, and they’re masters at their craft. 

“Steady...” Crowley calls out to those around him, his own core trembling a little as well, to hear the sound again after all these millennia. 

As the song ends, Heaven and Hell stand there, smug, assuming ants have no chance against the boot they represent. Hell is likely basking in the fear it caused, while Heaven is just simply basking.

“Pity the humans don’t all speak the same language anymore...” Crowley mumbles, knowing it’ll be difficult to inspire courage back into their hearts after that. 

Aziraphale blinks. “No... But they _do_ all love music...” 

“This is no time for Mozart, angel,” Crowley practically growls.

“Please, where would we even get any instruments out here?” Aziraphale gives him a prim look, “No, we need something that doesn’t require accompaniment... Something that almost everyone on earth knows... You there,” he says to the homeless man on Crowley’s right, “Take this. You’re going to need it more than I will,” he says as he thrusts the handle of his flaming sword into the man’s hands. 

“Aziraphale...” Crowley hisses, “What are you doing?”

The homeless guy blinks, then hefts the sword, giving Aziraphale a stunned yet thankful smile. 

“I needed my hands free, dear boy,” Aziraphale says.

And then he stomps his foot. 

Twice.

And claps once. 

Then repeats it. 

Stomp. Stomp. Clap.

Stomp. Stomp. Clap. 

It takes approximately two and a half seconds for every human around him to catch on. 

It takes Crowley three times as long to pick his jaw up off the ground. 

“Do feel free to join in, darling, if you know this one,” Aziraphale tells him almost gleefully, determination etched in every line of his face. 

Crowley’s core trembles with something entirely different this time as the beat spreads through the entire camp of humanity. 

He joins them. 

The fervor rises quickly, pushing back fear, pulling forward the love of everything it means to be _mortal_ that the song represents. Some people are singing the words, some are just clapping and stomping, but the ground _shakes_ under their feet nonetheless. 

Eventually, Lucifer realizes it was Not A Good Idea to let the humans have their little war cry. Because even though he roars at them to silence their stomping, they’re _spoiling for a fight_ now. 

They roar back. 

Lucifer raises his fist in the air, just about to motion the charge forward, when suddenly the homeless man with the flaming sword is standing in the middle of the open space between the armies. 

His posture straightens. 

His rags fall away.

He bears scarred wrists and a crown of thorns, in addition to Aziraphale’s sword. 

He gives a quick wink to the angel and the demon who chose the humans’ side above all else, just as he did. With sword raised, he addresses the Heavenly and Hellish forces, who are stunned in His presence.

“Anyone who wants to lay a finger on humanity,” His voice booms out across the field, across the earth, across the heavens, “Is going to have to go through _me_ first.”

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I'm back on tumblr, [phlintandsteel-ao3](http://www.phlintandsteel-ao3.tumblr.com), in case anyone wants to come scream about Good Omens with me.


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